Parable
by HotChilliGriffin
Summary: The wolf and the maiden; will baring her throat save her life? Dark MK.


**Parable**

She opens the front door, and goes straight down the hall to the lounge room. Almost as if she expects him to be there. As if she wants to see him. Flicking on the light, her gaze immediately falls on the hunched figure sitting on her lounge. He raises empty, bloodshot eyes, and she knows she should be scared. The man in front of her is not the captain she fell in love with three years ago – or should that be ten?

For a long time, neither of them says anything. She doesn't ask what he's doing in her house; she already knows, even if he doesn't. He just doesn't know what to say.

Eventually she takes a step forward and mutters something that might be 'sorry'. He doesn't reply. Doesn't take his red eyes away from her face.

"Everybody makes mistakes, Kate," he murmurs. Goosebumps spring up along her arms. Is he talking about what he did, or about her reaction?

"Please, Mike," she says, and her voice is unnaturally loud in the empty room. "Leave." Even she can hear how weak the word sounds. Gritting her teeth, she points a finger at the door. "Get out!"

"And go where?" he snaps, eyes flashing. Her gaze falls to the floor, but she can still feel his fiery blues boring into her hair. "I have nothing left, Kate."

She looks back at him, and takes an aggressive step forward. "So kill me. Kill me and see if it makes you feel better."

It's not until he abruptly stands, snarling, that she sees the long-bladed knife in his right hand. "Do you think I would, Kate? Do you think I _should_?"

"I don't know what to think anymore."

"I love... Kate, I lo..."

She shakes her head at him. "You can't say it. You don't feel it."

"I loved you," he finally forces out.

"But not anymore," she says flatly.

"You betrayed me. How do you expect me to feel?"

"You betrayed yourself. You broke the rules, again and again..."

"I've never been one for the rulebook, Kate. You know that."

"But this time, it all went wrong. This time, people died. Innocent people."

"I couldn't... have stopped it," he says, his voice wobbling slightly.

"It was Bright Island all over again. But this time, you got it wrong." She sucks in a breath, trying to compose herself. "I could have forgiven that. If you'd asked for help, I would have given it. I would have given you anything. So why lie? Why cover it up?"

"Mistake, Kate. I made... too many mistakes..."

"I know you did."

"So why tell? It didn't change anything. It didn't bring those people back to life."

"It was _right_. I was doing my job."

There's a few seconds of silence, before Mike shuffles closer. "Only one person found out, Kate. If it had been anyone else in the crew... they wouldn't have reported it. They would have left it. But you? The one person I could trust..."

"The Mike I love wouldn't have asked me to lie," she cut in coldly. "The Mike I love wouldn't have lied. He wouldn't have killed."

"Love, Kate?"

She knows what he's referring to. He loved her. She loves him.

"Yes, love. And dammit, there's not a thing I can do about it." She glances at the knife in his hand, then back up at his unshaven face. "And if I die tonight, I've got nothing left to live for."

They're so close. His breath touches her face, and she feels a weight hit her shoulders at the smell. No alcohol. This is all Mike... all that's left of him, that is.

"Maybe you'd like to know what it feels like to lose everything," he says. "How I feel. You cost me my career, my job, my future. My life."

Her lids slide closed, remaining there for a moment, before she returns her stare to him. She will not run, and she will not try to save her own life. All she wants to do is believe, just for a moment, that Mike is not truly a killer, that the last month was all just a bad dream.

"Finish it," she whispers, and he frowns. "You came here to kill me. And I'm not fighting you." There was the slightest emphasis on 'you', but otherwise her words were calm, accepting.

So, as he lifts the knife, expression unreadable, she tilts her head back. He is the wolf, and she the maiden. Baring her throat is her only chance of survival. In any case, it's the only way she would want to live; trusting him.

His left hand reaches behind her, taking hold of her wrists. Though his hands are larger, they probably wouldn't be able to hold both of hers at once if she wasn't so passive.

"What about your career?" he asks quietly, and she sighs quietly.

"I chose it last time. This time, I choose love."

As he positions the blade against her throat, she closes her eyes for the last time. In a few short seconds, she will be dead... a tremor runs across her skin, belying her apparent calm.

He leans forward, using his greater height to press his lips to hers just briefly, the fingers around her wrists tightening with a mixture of hatred and despair.

"Tell me you're sorry," he commands, almost begs, but she doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Doesn't breathe. His knuckles whiten on the knife and, muttering a curse, he thrusts it deep into her throat.

The reaction is instantaneous. Her eyes fly open, wider than seems possible, the whites gleaming in agony, and her back arches. Blood flows thickly over her shirt and his hand. He twists the blade and her knees buckle; she would fall to the floor, but because of his arm behind her back their bodies instead fall together in a chilling mimic of an embrace.

Her mouth moves slightly, as if she's trying to suck in a breath. He can feel her rapidly beating heart slapping at his chest through both their blood soaked shirts, and knows that each frantic thud pushes more blood out and brings her closer to death.

Then her eyes flicker shut, and the only sound remaining is his heavy breathing, and an imagined echo of the word '_sorry_'.


End file.
